Momfidence: Just You and Me

Paula Spencer bonds with her daughter on a recent trip to the big city

Margaret, 12, ordinarily considers herself well beyond parental public displays of affection. But here we are in New York City, swinging hands as we walk down Broadway. She leans into me: "I love it here, Mom!" I've taken her along with me on a business trip for her birthday, thanks to recession-bargain airfares.

Having lived in New York in my 20s, I'm thrilled to watch my daughter "get" the city, and she seems intrigued by this urban glimpse of her suburban mom. Bonding in action! Isolated from all our usual family dynamics—sibling interruptions, Mom doing 10 things at once and getting a little crabby—we get to see one another in a fresh light. She tells me stuff. She listens. We crack up when I clonk my head into a giant fiberglass pickle while exiting a deli and vow to keep my clumsiness a secret (until now!).

More From Woman's Day

Super-concentrated doses of one-on-one time can be an over-the-rainbow gift to both parent and child. The trick is how to make them a priority. Everyday life, alas, is too often like that pre-Oz poppy field, putting our good intentions to sleep.

Oh, and then there's the matter of finding time. It's hard for me to multitask or delegate my way out of the fact that there are four kids in my life who need solo moments. I'm not talking about the sit-down-on-the-floor-and-play time that babies, toddlers and preschoolers need for healthy development. For young children, parental play, talk and reading are nonnegotiables. But big kids need a different sort of intentional together time every once in a while.

I'm a firm believer in the wallpaper theory of childrearing: Post-kindergarten, and increasingly as they grow, kids no longer want (or need) you to be their constant buddy or chief entertainment officer. They'd rather you were like the wallpaper, a familiar and reassuring backdrop for their everyday life. Except for this: At the same time, they do want (and need) dollops of undivided attention from each parent every so often. And you need that time, too. Out of the context of everyday life, you can learn new things about each other while cementing all that you already share. It's fun. It's intimate. It's the ultimate gift of time.

Still, my biggest hurdle is remembering to do it. No teenager is going to say, "Please get in my face, Mom." They don't even want you to get in their Facebook. So it's up to you to get the ball rolling. Here are my personal ground rules.

Coexisting doesn't count
Interacting is what matters. The trouble with that classic qualitytime- maker, the car trip, is that it's morphed into a journey of a thousand distractions. In the old days, your need to watch the road eliminated the eye contact that can zip a child's lips faster than he can grouse, "Why are you staring at me?" So the child would stare blankly at the scenery and open his heart. Not anymore. Nowadays, in the car, thumbs fly across cell phones while ears are plugged into iPods. Kids can't even sit in the front seat until they're a certain size or age, which is kind of a deep conversation zapper.

Great one-on-one time requires, first, some unplugging. On one of my best car trips, taking my son to camp, he agreed to keep the iPod packed. Trolling the radio dial, he played DJ, and I was astonished to learn how much he knew about jazz.

It can't involve others
Some parents let their kids invite a friend along on a trip or outing. That's generous of you and fun for your child, but buddy outings are too overpopulated to count as Mom-and-me time.

It's not what you spend, it's whom you spend it with
Despite my and Margaret's trip to New York, it's important to clarify that solo time isn't about money. I've taken road trips with each child—sometimes literally only down the road, to the zoo or a museum. The goal isn't to lavish an expensive treat. It's to lavish focus.

"Specialize" it
My sister has regular "Mom and Joe" and "Mom and Louisa" days in which she takes the day off from work (usually on a school holiday). It's "child's choice," typically an activity like a movie, shopping or a sporting event, with a fast-food chaser. Talking up the outing as special signals that you think it's important, and that you're excited, too.

Stretch your usual boundaries
Doing out-of-the-ordinary stuff adds to the idea that this is "different time." On one trip, Eleanor and I ate at a nice restaurant with tablecloths and great service (i.e., the kind of place she'd never been to in her life). The candlelight made her feel grown up. Of course, as you would at any great girlfriend meal, we ordered dessert.

Photographic proof is optional
I'm a famously lame family photographer. In the predigital camera world, the sweetest words to my ears from friends and family were, "Do you want the double prints?" So the only picture I have of Margaret in New York is of her sitting on a tour bus, snapped with my cell phone. (I still can't figure out how to get it off the phone, but that's another column.)

Never mind—the keepsakes from these outings last forever in your heart. You don't forget a giant pickle. Or the feel of holding hands on Broadway. Or something more valuable than all the emeralds in the Emerald City: the sensation of bonding in action.